


Cold-Blooded Sleeper

by queerpyrate



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley's Hiss (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Overanalyzing, apparently I can only manage the smallest of ficlets right now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 14:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19907125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerpyrate/pseuds/queerpyrate
Summary: Crowley has peculiar sleeping habits, and Aziraphale thinks he knows why.





	Cold-Blooded Sleeper

Crowley was a peculiar sleeper. Not that Aziraphale had a good frame of reference, of course. Then again, perhaps that wasn't the right word for it at all. No, no... "Particular". Now _that_ was something much more fitting. After all, there wasn't anything _wrong_ with the way Crowley slept --not really. Especially not when considering the nature of the underlying beast.  
  
When alone, Crowley slept flat on his belly. His arms would either be tucked up under his chest or straight at his sides --During the winter months, anyway. Summer nights consisted of his arms and legs being strewn about in a haphazard manner, not unlike a rag doll. It all depended on the time of year and how much body heat he was trying conserve. He was a snake, after all.  
  
When the two of them were sharing a bed, however, it was a rather different story. It didn't matter the season, nor how hellishly hot or frightfully cold the nights became. No matter what, Crowley would somehow manage to completely entangle himself with the angel time and time again. One leg would be hooked over his side, the other wrapped neatly around his back. His arms, too, would ensnare his head and torso in a similar fashion.  
  
To anyone who managed to sneak a glimpse of this arrangement --for their flat was above the book shop--, all they would see is a mess of impossibly long limbs. Sometimes it felt as though there was an extra elbow poking him in the ribs, and Aziraphale would be left to wonder if Crowley had somehow sprouted more. It was truly a testament to Crowley's flexibility, even in human form.  
  
Not that Aziraphale was complaining, of course. Heaven forbid. Actually it was rather lovely. Reminiscent of how Crowley would sometimes accompany him around the shop, wrapped up, down, and around his shoulders several times over. Forked tongue flicking at his jawline, those golden eyes peering over the shop's patrons before giving the occasional hiss. Except instead of deep evergreen scales, they were black silk pajamas. That, and there was little to no hissing.  
  
It's funny, really. The simplicity of it. While Aziraphale had explained away Crowley's sleeping habits --not incorrectly, mind you, as form does shape nature--, the true reasoning behind it was far more elementary. More _human_. When he had the bed to himself, Crowley slept the way he did not because he was some great, cold-blooded serpent, but because it was comfortable. With Aziraphale, he purely sought to keep the angel as close --and to maintain as much physical contact-- as otherworldly possible.  
  
Short of a second body-swap scenario, at any rate.


End file.
